


Miles Underwater

by chanderson



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Season/Series 01, Will is a sad boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 05:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13651947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanderson/pseuds/chanderson
Summary: "It’s been months, hell, probably almost a year since I’ve had an anxiety attack. I thought I was, you know, cured or whatever.”





	Miles Underwater

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really specify where exactly they are/what they're doing. I allude to Will giving a speech, so I sort of imagined it as him getting an award or something, but it's not really important to the story.
> 
> This is set circa early/mid-2006, so still toward the beginning of their relationship. Probably like 4-5 months in or so. 
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys!

“Just breathe, Billy. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine. I promise that you’ll be fine. I’ll be right up front. You’ll be able to see me the whole time.” 

Will’s breaths come fast, little pained puffs of air that make his chest burn and his head ache. Everything is hazy, almost like he’s high but he knows he isn’t. He tries to take a deep breath but only ends up sputtering and coughing so hard that he nearly gags. 

MacKenzie tightens her grip on his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin through the thin material of his undershirt. The pain, no matter how minor, is grounding. He tries to focus on it if only to distract himself from all the thoughts currently zig-zagging through his brain. 

It doesn’t work. 

He feels like he’s going to fucking throw up.

His stomach drops with the thought. 

Though he’s not really aware of what the fuck is happening right now, he’s assuming he must make some sort of noise because Mac squeezes him in a gentle hug and combs through his hair. “Shh, you’re okay,” she says in his ear, her warm breath tickling his skin. “You’re okay, Billy.”

_Billy._ He loves when she calls him that. It’s softer, makes him feel less like a sarcastic asshole and more like someone worth loving. He likes being Mac’s Billy a lot more than he likes being _News Night’s_ Will. 

Mac taps his cheek and slowly turns his head to look at her. He blinks sluggishly and sucks in another ragged breath. His heart is beating so hard that he’s afraid he’s having a heart attack, afraid that he’s fucking dying.

He shudders and stares into Mac’s eyes. Her eyebrows are wrinkled with concern.

She strokes his cheek and her finger tips come away wet. She frowns and gathers him up in another hug. “Oh sweetie, don’t cry.” 

He frowns; he hadn’t realized that he’d started crying, but now that he thinks about it he notices that his cheeks are sticky and wet. His eyes burn and his throat is tight. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to croak out. Tears are rolling down his cheeks and he irritatedly rubs them away with a shaking hand. Mac grabs the hand and pulls it to her lips, kissing his knuckles. 

“You don’t have to apologize. Just keep breathing, okay? You don’t have to talk.” 

“No, no, I’m okay,” he argues as he tries to pull away. “I’m okay.” 

Except he’s not okay because everything still sounds so far away, like he’s miles underwater and watching everything from below, and his stomach is churning with nausea in the way that lets him know he needs to stay still or find a bathroom to puke in. 

Judging by the look on Mac’s face, she knows that, so she just slowly rubs his back. He takes a shaky breath and tastes vomit in his throat. He nearly gags, and Mac’s hand stills for a moment before she starts rubbing his back again. 

“Sit with your knees up and hang your head between them,” she suggests. “It’ll help with the nausea.” 

He does as he’s told and Mac hums her approval. “Good. You’ll feel better soon. Do you want some water?” 

Will practically heaves at the thought and shakes his head. 

“How long until I have to be out there?” he asks instead. “Shouldn’t you be in the audience?” 

“Don’t worry about that right now. Just sit here and focus on your breathing.” 

Will squeezes his fists in frustration.

“Mac, please. I have to get ready. There can’t be that much time left.” 

He feels a fresh swell of panic in his stomach and tries to breathe through it. Mac starts to knead the muscles in his shoulders.

“You have plenty of time, Billy. I promise I’ll let you know when you have to get ready.”

“I’m so sorry. This hasn’t happened in so long.” Will angrily rubs his eyes and swings his arm behind him to hit the wall with the side of his fist. _“Fuck.”_

Mac jumps and squeezes his shoulders.

“Will! Calm down!” Mac squeezes down sharply on his shoulders again. “You need to stay calm. Getting angry isn’t going to help anything.” She pauses for several seconds before sighing. Her voice is gentler when she speaks again. “I didn’t know you had anxiety attacks.” 

He knows she didn’t mean it accusatorially, but he still cringes — partially out of embarrassment and partially because he knows it’s stupid to lie about this kind of shit. 

“I know.” He swallows, the sound uncomfortably loud in his ears. “I haven’t had one in so long that I thought they’d gone away. It’s been _months_ , hell, probably almost a year since I’ve had an attack. I thought I was, you know, cured or whatever.” He turns to face Mac, crossing his legs to mirror her position. 

“Lots of people with anxiety have symptoms that come and go.”

“I don’t have anxi—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Will,” Mac suddenly snaps. “You don’t always have to be _okay_. You can be nervous or scared or what the fuck ever. Why don’t you just cut the crap and let me help you for once. This—us—is never going to work if you can’t let down your guard every once in a while. You can let me take care of you; it won’t kill you!” 

Mac sucks in a sharp breath, and Will recoils. His immediate response is to be defensive, to shout at her that he doesn’t _need_ anyone’s help, but he tries to reign it in. He doesn’t want to fuck this up, not Mac. She’s worth too much. He loves her _too much_ to let himself ruin it.

So he sucks it up and nods. 

“Okay,” he says softly. 

Mac nods tersely and leans forward to kiss him firmly on the lips. 

“Good. Thank you.” She smooths his hair back. “How are you feeling?” 

He shrugs and starts to stand up, using the counter as leverage. His vision momentarily tilts and his stomach lurches, but he quickly regains his bearings and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“Better. I’m feeling better.” He takes a slow breath. “Can I get ready now?” He glances at himself in the dressing room mirror and cringes. His eyes are rimmed with red and his face is splotchy and wet. Mac steps up behind him and hugs him from behind. 

“Yes, you can get ready.”

“What time is it?” He goes into the small bathroom and splashes his face with water. Mac leans in the doorway and checks her watch. 

“Almost ten after.” 

“Fuck. I need to be ready to go in twenty minutes. _Fuck.”_ Will hurries out of the bathroom and grabs his suit off the rack. He starts to button up his shirt but his hands are still too shaky. Mac bats his hands away and deftly does up the buttons.

“Slow down; take a deep breath. You’ve got plenty of time, Billy. I promise you won’t be late.”

He nods and tucks his shirt into his pants before buckling his belt.

“Okay, right. Everything’s fine.” 

“Exactly.” Mac helps him shrug on his suit jacket and smooths it down for him. “Now go down to hair and make-up. It won’t take them long. I’ve gotta get to my seat.” 

Will nods as he knots his tie, hands still shaking. For some ridiculous reason, he feels tears burning in his eyes. Mac must notice because she shakes her head and kisses him gently. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right up front the whole time, remember? You’ve practiced this speech over and over again. You’re going to do great.”

“I know, I know. It’s just — It’s not about the speech. I know you’ll be there. It’s not about the speech, not really. I don’t really know, well, it’s just stupid, okay? It’s fucked up and stupid.”

Mac frowns, and he can feel her watching him as he adjusts his cuffs and smooths down his tie. 

“If it’s not about the speech then what’s wrong?” 

Will swallows and stares at a point past her head. 

“It’s stupid.” 

Mac just shrugs and crosses her arms. He swallows hard.  


“I thought I saw my dad, okay? When we were coming in, I thought I saw him in the crowd. And it just… set something off inside me. I haven’t seen him in so long, and I can’t fucking stand being around him. I’m almost 46 years old and he somehow still manages to make me feel like a worthless son of a bitch.” Will sucks in a sharp breath and turns around so he doesn’t have to look into Mac’s eyes anymore. 

“Will—”

“It’s _fine_ , Mac. He’s not here. It’s fine. It just surprised me.” 

“You need to go to hair and makeup,” she says softly. 

Will sighs and spins back around. She’s disappointed in him; he can tell by the way she’s looking at him. Anger flares in his chest. 

“What?” he barks. “I told you that it’s fine. I don’t want you to think — I’m not fucked up, okay?”

“I didn’t say you were.” 

“Well you’re thinking it. I know you are.” 

Mac rolls her eyes. “You don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m just worried about you. I think you should start talking to a therapist.” 

“Look, can we not have this conversation right now?”

“Fine, but we’re talking about it later. I mean it.” 

Will nods and moves to open the door, but Mac grabs his shoulder and stops him. He agitatedly sighs and turns to look at her.

“What?”

“You’ve got time. Just stand here for a minute and calm down.” 

“MacKenzie please. I need to go.” Will goes to open the door again but Mac shakes her head and pulls on his arm. 

“Let me hold you for a minute.” She wraps her arms around his waist and he sighs, bringing his arms up to hug her against him.

“Okay. One minute.” He kisses the top of her head and closes his eyes. 

“You’re going to do a great job.” She pauses and leans up to kiss his jaw. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re _good,_ Billy. I promise.” 

He knows she’s not just talking about him being good at his job. The deeper meaning behind her words hangs in the air between them. 

_You matter, you’re worth something, you deserve to be loved_  — it’s everything his father never told him. It’s everything Will has always had a hard time believing. 

Mac lets go of him and steps back to stare up at him. “I'm proud of you."

Will smiles and blinks. 

"I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> My second Newsroom fic in the bag. This is such a nice pairing and I love Will as a character. Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
